


Looking-Glass

by climaxed (orphan_account)



Category: Ginga Eiyuu Densetsu | Legend of the Galactic Heroes
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 11:37:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7638739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/climaxed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What can she say? Hilda’s a one-of-a-kind girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Looking-Glass

It’s surprising how easily human emotions can be read with just the right amount of practice. Magdalena has had a lot. It comes discreetly with her job description, her title, neither said nor written down. It’s not always easy to ascertain between someone who’s sincere and one who’s just really good at faking it, but the fact is most people don’t keep themselves as tightly guarded as they like to think.  

“Oh, no,” the girl says, looking almost caught off-guard, and then presses a gracious knuckle to her mouth to keep from laughing. A small chuckle escapes anyway. “Nobody calls me Hildegarde. Just ‘Hilda’ is fine.”

Magdalena considers the name silently behind the rim of her teacup, then smiles and sets it down. She concedes. “Alright,” she says, “just Hilda, then.”

“My mother used to,” Hilda says. Her voice somewhat lacks the sentiment befitting the statement, but then again, the Countess’ passing was well over a decade ago. The girl couldn’t be any older than seventeen. “Nobody else does. Don’t you suppose it’s funny that way? Most other people have special nicknames, not the other way around,” she continues.

“I wouldn’t know,” Magdalena laughs. “I don’t have a nickname. My name doesn’t suit it.”

“Oh, but you’ve got a title. That’s better.”

“Let’s not bother too much with formalities,” she persuades. “They’re a bunch of nonsense anyway. Just call me Magdalena.”

“No, I couldn’t,” says Hilda, pink-cheeked and abashed at the transgression, and Magdalena nearly considers pressing on, just to get her to make that face again, to betray her outward show of maturity, but in the end she doesn’t—and that settles it.

* * *

She could’ve enrolled for a guaranteed seat at her mother’s former school and become proficient at the arts; sometimes Magdalena thinks to mention this to her, but even she could recognize her own wish projected within it. Instead Hilda chose another academy of fair prestige, a little farther from home, with more male colleagues and more subjects to study under. Well—that’s good, too. She’s happy for her.

Hilda is almost too young to be holding herself the way she does, confident and certain, comfortable in her day-to-day practical ensembles and not caring if people stare, disdainfully or otherwise.

“I heard about what you said to that nobleman at the party the other day,” Hilda says, once, not daring to look her in the eyes as she says it, instead busying herself with the assortment of books on Magdalena’s shelves. She considers for an overlong moment before picking one out. Her affinity for the arts has only extended as far as shallow fascination, but it’s nevertheless an interest and Magdalena appreciates it. “I admire that about you, Baroness. You always speak your mind. People like that are hard to come by, these days.”

Magdalena lets out a chuckle. “Like the other students at your school?”

“Yes! Exactly,” Hilda replies. Spite shifts to agreement and then surprise: “How did you know?”

 “Just a wild guess; there’s a lot of spineless men out there. I hope they haven’t been a bad influence on you.”

She makes a face. “I really hope not.”

“You’d never,” she says. “You’ve got more backbone in you than all those boys combined.”

“Well,” Hilda retorts, already giggling. “I learn from the best, don’t I?”

“Spot on!”

* * *

“Hilda, you don’t have a boyfriend yet, isn’t that right?”

She jests in turn, “Why, do you have someone in mind?”

“I think I might. It’s not easy picking a candidate for you, I’ll have you know. You wouldn’t want a guy with no brains, would you? I’m guessing not.”

“You’re awfully thoughtful, Baroness.” Hilda brushes aside a lock of hair behind her ear. “But I’m not too interested in relationships right now. I’m not like you in that respect.”

“You’re lucky your father’s a good man—less obstinate than some, that’s for sure. Well, you’re still young, and you’re smart. You’ve plenty of time to figure it out.”

“Thanks,” Hilda says, comforted.

“I mean what I said before though,” Magdalena says, as Hilda gets out of the car. She’d politely declined her invitation to come in for dinner—it’d be rude to miss a date. “One of these days I should get that guy and you to meet up.”

“Looking forward to it, Baroness,” she replies. Everything about the girl seems to sparkle under the near-evening light. For a second she looks like she has more to say, but then it dissipates, almost as if it weren’t there in the first place, and she smiles to cover it up. Magdalena, playing along, returns the gesture. It’s as simple as that.

* * *

(The meeting never happens, in the end, but it turns out they don’t need much interfering between them in the first place.

There’s something to be said about humans trying to defy their fate; Magdalena can say that she tried, at least, even if not very hard, because what can she say? Hilda’s a one-of-a-kind girl. If it’s not her, she could at least take comfort that Hilda's match turns out to be a star of a man. It’s only fitting, after all.)

**Author's Note:**

> :/


End file.
